The holidays can be tender.
Sometimes they bring comfort and connection; other times, they bring a quiet ache that is hard to ignore and explain.
If this is your first holiday season without someone you love, I hope you find small pockets of calm—moments of inner stillness where you can tend to your heart and honour their memory in your own way.
This year, I’m walking through grief too.
My mum passed away on 6th June 2025, and life still feels a little strange.
A memory I’m holding close
Earlier this month, I visited Mum’s grave on my birthday.
I felt heavy-hearted, with a lump in my throat, as my mind replayed the past few months of caring for her.
As I stood there, I remembered the care she took of our family and our birthdays.
By the end of every October, Mum would soak the fruit.
Then she would spend a whole day baking my birthday cake, my brother’s birthday cake, and the Christmas black cake.
The following weekend, she would ice them and store them away until our birthdays and Christmas Day.
As I recalled that memory, the sadness shifted, and my face softened.
I felt deep gratitude for the 62 years we shared: the joy, the meals, and, in the last few years, Mum’s simple, peaceful presence as she came to accept living with Alzheimer’s and the changes it brought.
If you’re caregiving right now for a loved one, the holidays can bring a different kind of heaviness.
If you are in the heavy throes of caregiving, please know you are close to my heart, too.
Even on weekends, special days, or festive days, caregiving does not stop; you are still the eyes, ears, and heartbeat of care.
Please be gentle with yourself.
It is not an easy road.
Take whatever time you can to rest—and remember, you are not alone.
A One-Minute Practice for Heavy Moments
Whether you’re feeling sadness, exhaustion, or simply the weight of this season, here’s a gentle practice you can use anytime you need a moment of calm.
A small practice for heavy moments (1 minute)
If you feel sad, empty, or exhausted today (or over the holidays), you can try this:
- Place one hand on your chest and one on your belly.
- Pay attention to your breath. Keep it soft and steady.
- Inhale through your nose for a count of 4.
- Exhale through your mouth for a count of 6.
- Repeat 5 times.
- On each exhale, silently say: “I am here.”
- On each inhale, whisper: “I am love.”
No need to fix anything.
No need to judge or analyse your thoughts.
Breathe softly and come back to yourself, one breath at a time.
“I am here.” “I am love.”
A gentle invitation (workshop in January 2026)
Because of my lived experience, caring for Mum through Alzheimer’s, being present at her passing, and learning how to live inside the quiet grief that follows, my focus for 2026 is becoming clearer.
I want to offer more mindfulness and self-nurturing spaces for those journeying through care, loss, and re-entry.
If you feel called to also explore gentle ways to heal and restore peace to your heart, I will be holding a live online supportive workshop in the new year:
Calm After Caregiving: Finding Ground After Loss
Sunday, 25 January 2026
8:00 to 9:00 pm UK (3:00 pm ET, 12:00 pm PT)
Cost $27.00
No pressure to decide now, but you may want to pencil it in. I will share full details and the registration link in early January.
A Closing Wish
As we move through this season together, my deepest wish for you is simple.
My wish for you this season is simple:
May you find calm in small things: a cup of tea, a kind word, a shared memory.
May you give yourself permission to rest.
And may peace, however brief, return to your heart.
If you feel able, I would truly love to hear from you.
How are you doing as the holidays approach?
You can share a few words or simply write “Heavy”, “Tender,” “Numb,” or “Okay today.”
Your feelings matter here.
With hugs, peace, and care,
Ntathu
P.S. If you are looking for healing words for yourself or someone you love, you may find comfort in my book Healing After Loss: 28 Devotional Poems for Healing and Peace.
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